Brienne and the Man Who Couldn't Flirt
by bamitsbeth79
Summary: 'She had absolutely no idea what just happened, alas she knew not whether to be uncomfortable or somewhat impressed...' I have absolutely no idea what I am writing, but after that marvelous episode I had to write something, so this is just free flowing. This will be a story of fighting, adventure and a new-found romance, don't worry there will be fluff, I'm not sure about smut
1. Chapter 1

The knowledge that Brienne had of Lady Sansa Stark being in her safe company made her able to breathe again. In doing this, Brienne was keeping her promise to Catelyn Stark and she refused to let anymore suffering come to those of House Stark, it truly was a House built on loyalty, family; everything that mattered in this god forsaken world. As they rode towards Castle Black, deep down Brienne knew that this was only the beginning of a long, tedious journey- but it would be one she would compellingly give her life for. House Stark is, and will always be the one and only Wardens of the North; Brienne was determined to help them achieve that to the best of her abilities whatever that may cost her.

Within in a short amount of time their horses came to a halt outside of the building in which everything reared a head. Their entire surroundings looked bleak and lonesome; associated with death and dread. Without even stepping into Castle Black, the Wall could be seen looming above them in the background; it gave a sense of protection to those on the right side, yet to others it gave the warning of danger. The fear of what was on either side went both ways she assumed; those on this side would fear the dark, grave myths of what lay in the murkiest corners of the distant North; whilst those on the other side fear the folk here who serve, the folk who know nought but war.

All three of the stolen horses trotted onwards as the colossal, foreboding gates separated. Everyone had heard about the stories of the Wall, of what happened within Castle Black, of why people went there, the whole ordeal was a common bedside story; however much of it was true though was another story indeed.

Brienne felt the eyes of numerous people bore into her, not like that was anything new, people always would judge her, always, but after so many years of it she held her head high and managed to acquire the confidence to look right back at them. As her gazed swivelled, she noticed a particular red head looking...how could she put it? Taken aback? Thrown off guard?

She decided to put the disgruntled emotion behind her, as the much needed reunion between the Lady she now served and the Lord Commander occurred.

It seemed that this 'taken aback red head' was one of the free folk (that much being obvious), but was surprisingly close to Lord Snow, which Brienne deemed odd of the free folk- considering their savage history with 'the crows'. Nevertheless she knew that the overall outcome of this was definitely a positive. With winter coming and the tales she'd be informed about in do with the White Walkers marching closer every second, everyone near the Wall would need all the help they could get and Brienne wouldn't bat an eye if given a choice, to lay down her sword and her life, if only Lady Sansa wished upon that.

That moment in which Brienne was sat with Lady Sansa, Lord Snow, Pod, Edd and the red head who turned out to be named- Tormund Giantsbane; she felt slightly out of place. This was a reunion of family, of friends, most of these people had at least some kind of history with the others, but not she- then again, Pod probably felt the same. The wooden table, which was surrounded by safe company, sat together in silence eating- well actually they were trying to eat whatever it was they called food out here.

She wasn't hungry and couldn't feel an ounce of shame whenever her hand would ceremoniously come to rest upon the hilt of Oathkeeper, it like a mother and a child, was a sign of comfort and safety in her mind.

Eventually her eyes met those fixed upon her physique, his blue-grey eyes unmoving and blown wide. For some reason she could neither seem to look away, and continued watching him with a slight tinge of uneasiness. Should she be preparing for a fight to come? Is this a sign, that she must keep one eye open when night flooded over them all?

Tormund raised his large hand, which was filled with nothing but a huge chunk of meat. He bit into the chicken, deep, jaw strong and all this whilst seemingly being overly proud of himself. Those ginger eyebrows danced to a song of self victory, to which Brienne thanked to the heavens when she gained the nerve to glance away. She had absolutely no idea what just happened, alas she knew not whether to be uncomfortable or somewhat impressed...

All she knew for certain was that, at this rate, it was going to be a long, long adventure...


	2. Chapter 2

It was during that same evening in which Tormund Giantsbane was displaying some unusual behaviour over dinner that the news that Ramsay Bolton, the new Warden of the North since murdering his father, now has Rickon Stark captive.

The room carried an ominous weight, a heaviness that set in the heart and the innocence of each vulnerable part of every person present.

It was Jon who spoke first, "Seven Hells, how do we handle this? We aren't handing Sansa back over to that monster that's for damn sure, but we need to save Rickon too..."

"If we just slaughtered the damn pig then all the other shit becomes easy."

"Despite that being true Tormund, we should probably focus on making sure Rickon is safe before we deal with Ramsay."

After a few minutes of silence, surprisingly it was Pod who spoke up, "Lady Brienne often gave council to those she served..." Quieting down after Brienne glared furiously at him. "So she said..."

A hopeful look spread over to Jon and Sansa, "Really? Who have you previously served Brienne?"

"Lord Renly Baratheon and Lady Catelyn Stark, ser."

"Catelyn..." A distant look shadowed over the lord commanders' face, Brienne wondered whether or not it would have been easier to lie and spare this family the pain. "What would you have use do in this situation Brienne?"

Brienne moved towards the ornate table which had recently been covered with a large map of the Northern parts of Westeros. She felt a heat come up behind her and immediately brought her hand towards the hilt of her blade once more. Brienne managed to glace at this warmth, protective heat; just to find that Tormund had approached the map as well but placed himself so that they were touching slightly, chest to back.

Momentarily stunned by the sudden intimate bodily contact, Brienne regained her composure and focused on the oncoming battle. "Logically Lord Bolton has the advantage here; he has a army which is at least three times larger than ours, they have better weapons, more horses-"

"Please tell me you are getting somewhere positive with this?"

The strong, warrior of a woman sighed, "Naturally. He may have the upper hand in aspects of those terms, but from what we know of Ramsay Bolton his greed will become his weakness. He will be impatient to get his hands back on Sansa or at least use his hands to kill Rickon."

"That's not going to happen."

"I'm aware. Alas since he will be so impatient for something to happen it means that he won't plan his attacks well. His father was the one who was in charge, who planned the attacks- Ramsay is too impulsive. Yes, he will probably be expecting some kind of ambush, he knows that you won't give up on Sansa or Rickon willingly and would do anything to protect them. He will want to set out as soon as possible, but you have to remember that those soldiers aren't Ramsay's men, they are his father's. If he tells them to do anything crazy- they may not oblige."

Jon became significantly more hopeful the more was stated, "Brienne, you might be onto something here."

"Also Ramsay will most likely have Rickon with him, so that will be the only possible time we have to get him, alive."

"Brilliant. It's genius m'lady." The softly spoken gruff voice in her ear made her seize up in shock. She had forgotten Tormund had still been so close to her, she had gotten used to his warmth. The thought made her shiver in anticipation, Brienne knew there was more important things to be dealing with at that time, but all she felt was her mind going numb from such innocent intimacy.

Her racing heart was calmed once more when Jon decided to make an announcement to the small number of people within the room. "Alright everyone, listen up. Brienne is right, we need to plan this through to the last detail, and I think that I have just the thing. For now rest up, early tomorrow we'll discuss the plan. If Ramsay wants this trade to happen soon, well, we'll give him just that."

As the crowd dissembled Brienne felt the cold return again as Tormund went to leave, she turned just as he did and both sets of eyes linked with silent approval.


	3. Chapter 3

It was barely 5am when Jon woke them all to gather for the meeting. Davos and Melisandre had decided to join them today, their gazes full of shame when Brienne would look in their direction, forcing them to glance away. Brienne had no guilt in killing Stannis, it was his final redemption arch, and it was Renly's retribution. The wannabe king used blood magic to kill his own younger brother, simply because he knew he couldn't win the future battle; he sacrificed his own daughter in the flames for power and yet what good did that do him? He committed the unthinkable, yet in the end he had nothing.

They all sat around the table that was becoming steadily familiar to them, each still drifting in and out of consciousness.

"Thank you everyone for meeting this early in the morning, but today is the day we are going ahead with the first step of the plan."

It was Davos that spoke up afterwards, the Onion Knight, so he was titled. "And what is this plan? Or are we going in blind?"

"No, of course not. Everything Brienne stated yesterday was correct; if we meet Ramsay for this 'trade' then he most probably will bring Rickon with him. That gives us the only time we have to get Rickon back to safety and therefore means in the end run- Ramsay won't be holding anything over us."

A gruff, stern voice made itself known, "Except a fucking large army." The voice sent shivers up Brienne's spine- she didn't even have to look at the red head to know his ponderous eyes bore into her.

"One thing at a time. Our main priority is getting Rickon back with us."

"So what's the plan?"

The previous lord commander towered over the map as Westeros, "I've sent a raven to Lord Bolton telling him we will meet today for the 'trade', and we will have to set off in a couple of hours. We will acquire two small groups of men, one shall bombard Ramsay's men who hold Rickon and the others will be the distraction. I've been up all night planning this through and hopefully if everything goes to plan, we will be the victorious ones."

Tormund scratched his beard thoughtfully, "I really doubt it'll be that easy, Snow. He'll know something is up, or something will happen- so he's gonna bring plenty of men."

"Yeah, I don't doubt that. That's why I want two small groups of our most powerful men- it's not going to be easy."

Having enough of hearing about these 'powerful men', Brienne made her voice clear, "If it may be with permission from Lady Sansa, I would like to provide my services to this mission."

Sansa grew concerned, "Lady Brienne, are you sure?"

"Lady Sansa is onto something, maybe you sure stay here..." Melisandre whispered from the edge of the room.

That was it, Brienne the Beauty stood, bold and forceful. "I am sure; I can take care of myself. Besides it wouldn't be the first time I've been in a fight and won: Stannis Baratheon, The Hound, even a bear."

The heir of Winterfell placed her delicate hand upon a more calloused one, "Then I support your wish, Lady Brienne."

"A bear, you say lass?"

Changing the subject from bears to battle, Jon questioned those he trusted most, "So the two groups will separate before getting near Winterfell, one will take the path throughout the forest and the other will go the common path. The group meeting with Ramsay will be as casual as to avoid suspicion and when I give the noise- both groups head into action. Those getting Ramsay's other men will strike and slaughter them all, and those with Ramsay will save Rickon. Does anyone have any questions?"

The others shared a chorus of 'no's' and the plan was set.

Within the time that had been spent gathering the necessary equipment, gathering the horses , getting fed and dressed, it was time to round up the men going and head off.

Jon Snow formed a huddle of everyone staying at Castle Black in order to let everyone know what was about to happen.

"Right, listen up. I want two small groups to be formed- one will be meeting with Ramsay Bolton to get my brother, Rickon; and the other will be our distraction, killing Ramsay's extra men. Yes, this mission will be dangerous, some of you who volunteer might not come back; but please, think about what you would do if it was your family in trouble? So, who will join us?"

Brienne, Edd, Tormund, Davos and Jon himself were the first to step forward. As Pod went to step forward, Brienne pushed him back and spoke softly, "I don't think so Pod, you have only just started getting lessons to fight, it won't be safe for you. Stay here, and if you really want to protect someone- protect Lady Sansa whilst I'm away, she may need a friend."

Pod nodded thankfully and stood back with those staying.

It was surprisingly really, even taking into consideration that there wasn't many Night's Watch members left, nearly every other man who volunteer their life to save Rickon Stark was one of the free folk- loyalty was truly unbreakable, even in the most bleak of times.

Tormund came to stand beside Brienne once more; she could feel the heat that she was quickly becoming accustomed to. "Scared, lass?"

"Not in the slightest." She firmly spoke, her head held high. It was the truth; she couldn't ever recall a situation except for the bear in which she had sincerely been afraid in. "Let's go."

Just as she turned to mount her horse, she felt an extremely immense, muscular hand brace itself on her broad shoulder. "What are you doing, ser?" She bore a warning look that could instantly give the message to back off, if they knew what was good for them.

The red haired wildling had the cheek to wink, "Just wishing you luck is all." He then patted her shoulder and mounted his own horse, "Besides lass, you shouldn't worry. I'll be right at your side; I'm in your little group after all."

"Brilliant, just brilliant..."


	4. Chapter 4

The silence had stretched on alongside them as they rode, horses trotting amongst scrawny grasslands and through the dirt of the normally quiet paths, the coldness seeping through their armour yet Brienne was physically sweating. She knew she shouldn't have been so hot, not this far north especially, but how could she not when the same pair of eyes had not left her since the journey had begun?

She was tempted to turn towards him and tell him to 'desist' but she refrained from giving him the satisfaction of hearing her speak, to him, no least.

It was a while again till they were forced to stop, the plan about to take swing, "Right, this is where both groups part. This group and I will go meet Ramsay to get Rickon, Brienne- your group will leave the horses here to collect afterwards and will go through the forest to reach the back of Ramsay's men. Naturally when Ramsay sees we don't have Sansa he'll go in for the attack, he'll go to hurt or kill Rickon and we need to stop that. Everyone know what they are doing?"

"What about the Bolton bastard?"

"Well, I doubt his men will allow him to be harmed, besides if we killed him it's possible a war may begin- however Ramsay doesn't have too many houses loyal to him, especially not after killing Roose Bolton; so if he gets slightly hurt, well it'll be an accident, won't it?"

The familiar gruff voice chuckled with excitement, "Hey lass, looks like we'll be alone eh?"

Brienne sighed with exasperation, "Not in the slightest, ser. Edd and those two other free folk will be accompanying us...Thank Goodness for that..."

All five of them watched as Jon and the extra volunteers rode off to begin the attack that would hopefully bring another member of the Stark family together, uniting them, constructing them to become stronger, helping them regain what was taken from them. When the dust had settled they moved to hide their horses behind some nearby shrubbery, and tied the ropes holding their getaway animals to the trees. Forming a singular line they all crouched and made their way slowly between the breaks and pickets of the trees, crawling through the mud covered detritus to soften the sounds of heavy footsteps, disguising themselves to be placed somewhere as the trap.

As they crouched within the dense soil waiting to hear the signal from Jon to attack, each person so silent that the only noises heard was the wind whispering through the woods, speaking to the trees. Tormund wasted no time advancing to Brienne's side, in any other situation Brienne would have made her signs of being unamused aware, but even she knew that now was not the time to tell him to cease his apparent flirting, there were more important matters at sake and any moment they were about to be thrown into a life or death situation.

There, coming along the path, patterns of four steps, simultaneously- horses. Brienne lowered herself flat on her stomach, pressing a long finger to her lips she signalled to the others to do the same.

Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiippppppppppppppp!

The signal sounded at once, Brienne the Beauty could see Ramsay's men confused yet curious, their hands automatically poised at the hilt of their weapons; now was the time to attack, the soldiers wouldn't see it coming from their direction, she just prayed that Rickon Stark was finally in safety.

Brienne immediately threw herself from where they were laid on the top of the dreary hill onto the guards below. She didn't need to let the others know the follow suite, since the sounds of metal clanging filled the once calm atmosphere.

The male she had knocked off the horse started rising to his feet again, sensing the oncoming attack Brienne gripped Oathkeeper tight and just as the man rose to full height, she swung the Valyrian steel sword with both hands and watched as the guards' head rolled away down the path being painted with blood. She didn't have time to appreciate her work, as all five members who had been staying within Castle Black were now surrounded by approximately 50 more men.

The five volunteers formed a small circle, trusting each other with their lives, she looked over to Tormund who was for once more focused on the immediate threat than her, it then became a worry when she realized that she missed meeting those ash coloured eyes.

The guards came closer and with the sound of a battle cry from the circle members the true battle of survival began. Each person threw themselves into the fight, every horse that galloped by carrying a danger was sliced in cold blood, no one having the time to feel ashamed.

The smell of coppery crimson gore filled the air; sounds of screaming, broken grunts, bodies falling to the floor surrounded them. Brienne was knocking men down with single blows, each more powerful and deadly than the last. She'd strike like a snake, quick and destructive, taking down those in her path.

She screamed in fury with each finishing act, Oathkeeper being part of her arm; for it would be swung and those who blocked her way would fall like flies; pathetic and meek.

Adrenaline burst throughout her veins, making her physique both inside and out like a bear- large and omnipotent.

She'd slash, slice, feel her power rise as her sword revealed blood of her enemies; anyone who claimed to not like to fight in battles was a liar; it made you feel capable, dominant, and indestructible. It made you a God.

Soon the joyous sounds of metal on metal stopped, instead replaced with overtly distinguishable pants, exhaustion overcoming them all. She threw her head back looking into the sky; perhaps the Gods would be judging them for all the bloodshed, but she cared little for the Gods; they created more bloodshed then she ever would in her life.

As she breathed in the fresh air, she heard a low voice, "Shit."

As she turned she found herself overwhelmed with relief as she saw Tormund, alive and healthy, crouching over the body of one the wildling helpers. Brienne walked over to them, noticing Edd hadn't been harmed either. Cautiously she placed a broad hand on the shoulder of the man in mourning. His eyes found hers in a mutual apology and sincerity for those lost.

"Seven Hells..." Brienne, Edd, Tormund and the wilding she didn't know the name of turned in synch, each preparing for battle again. Jon, Rickon and four others stepped towards them, impressed by the sight of a well fought battlefield. "Excellent work, but we need to go now; Ramsay will no doubt be sending any nearby soldiers this way. Come on, get the horses."

As they returned to the horses, they could hear a few yells in the distance. "Hurry!"

Brienne, Edd, Tormund and a wildling rode in the back, offering themselves as protection to the Stark family. It wasn't long before the sounds of extra hooves shook the ground and the dirt began to rise. Brienne dared to look behind her noticing four men gaining speed towards them, "Edd, grab my horse! Tormund, give me your hand!"

It was the first time she had actually spoken the wildlings' name, it slipped with ease off her tongue. Edd grabbed her reins as well as his own as she began to stand upon her horse, she could hear the uncertainty in the red haired warrior as he shouted, "Brienne, what in seven hells are you doing?!"

"Give me your hand!"

He flung his strong arm out and with one swift movement she had joined Tormund on his horse, facing herself the opposite way, she placed Tormunds' hand on the inside of her upper thigh, "Hold on so I don't fall, don't get the wrong idea- I'm handling our problem!"

She grabbed the bow and quiver from her horse, the warm hand upon her thigh spiking her with pleasure and anticipation. As the guards came closer, Tormunds horse bucked hard till she almost fell over the side if not for the sturdy hand that held her. Thanks to that incident she had lost most of the arrows, which were now long gone, she wouldn't even try and insist she was the best at archery; swordsmanship was her practice, her life. Three arrows, four oncoming guards. She'd think of something.

As she fired her first shot, she claimed success as a body fell to the floor, the man might not have been killed but as long as they made it back to Castle Black they would be safe. She again was successful with the last two shots of the bow; another Bolton guard had fallen towards the woodland floor, leaving two still riding towards them.

Brienne flung the bow down the path towards the guards causing them to separate and go in different directions. "Edd, behind you!" She screamed.

Luckily the Night's Watch man ducked with great reflexives, just missing the edge of the blade. He grabbed his own sword triumphantly slicing across the enemies' abdomen, but in doing so he lost grip of Brienne's horse, watching it gallop away from the chaos.

"Sorry m'lady."

She turned in the opposite direction to the horse now closest to her only to see the last Bolton guard raise his sword aiming for the female wildling, "Watch out!"

Without thinking Brienne jerked her hand out grabbing the metal of the blade, she felt it slice through the skin, and felt the hot blood trickle from her. She urgently reached behind her and searched Tormunds' clothes from a blade of some sort whilst desperately trying not to cry out from the pain. Her hand gripped the hilt of a dagger found around Tormunds' waist, grasped it and suddenly thrush the blade into the neck of the Bolton guard.

She saw his eyes go blank and he too finally fell from his horse. She leaned back against the warm body, feeling the adrenaline leave her body and the pains enter it.

"Enjoy what you felt?" The gruff Northern voice spoke.

She sighed, "Shut it, Tormund."

Brienne heard Edd speak, "Sorry about the horse, m'lady. It looks like you'll have to ride the rest of the way with Tormund."

She sighed inwardly this time, but was she feeling annoyance by this fact or excitement?

A hand squeezed her thigh making her bright eyes snap wide open, "You're gonna have to sit properly if you don't want to fall off lass." She ignored the suggestive tone of his voice.

"Fine." She removed the hand from her muscular thigh but held onto it as she turned, placing her hands behind her. As it turns out the path back to Castle Black was more violent then she remembered and Brienne found herself having to grip onto the sides of Tormund as they rode. Another hiccup in the path caused Brienne to be fiercely shoved forward into the red headed wildling that started laughing as she brought her arms to circle his waist.

They conclusively entered the courtyard to Castle Black once more and she firmly stated, "Stop laughing, this means nothing."

He continued smiling as she dismounted the horse, "I think you mean, it means nothing yet, Lady Brienne."

Before she had the chance to reply after becoming a flustered mess, Tormund had already taken the horse to the barn.

Did he have a point?


	5. Chapter 5

"Where is Lady Brienne today?" Sansa spoke, the panic clear in her voice.

"Don't worry Lady Sansa; Lady Brienne will be joining us shortly. She is getting a wound treated at the moment and will be in our company soon after." Pod reassured the Stark heir softly.

Brienne had noticed that Pod had grown a slight attraction to Lady Sansa; she'd noticed it ever since their journey with the lady had begun. She had thought about letting him down gently, but technically it wasn't her place to discuss the matter and if Pod wished to try and take things further with Lady Sansa- then he could try, but deep down Brienne knew nothing would come of it.

Shortly after that conversation ended with a contemplated nod of the girl's head, did Brienne walk through the door to where they had been previously held several meetings. She stood tall, adept; not letting her injury make her look weak, if anything, she was stronger.

The Lady Sansa upon seeing the warrior of a woman, who had recently become her protector, rose up from where she once sat and rushed towards her worriedly. "Lady Brienne, Podrick told me you were hurt?"

The others turned to look upon her as well, she purposely avoided Tormunds' eye. She felt uncomfortable, yet slightly embarrassed, but for what, she did not know. "You needn't worry M'lady. I am well. My wound is taken care of."

Sansa sighed with relief, "Thank goodness, you had me worry, let's sit. Jon says we have much to discuss."

Jon smiled her way, "We're glad you could join us Brienne. Pod told me that you grabbed the sharp end of a blade, what compelled you to do that?"

"Well, unless you wanted to burn the body of another wildling, then perhaps I shouldn't have grasped it when I did."

A familiar voice sounded itself again, sending shivers down her spine every time she heard it, "You did what? You...saved one of my people?"

Brienne didn't know what drove her to do what she did, she wasn't thinking, in the midst of battle thinking gets you killed. So she simply did what came naturally to her, she fought, she saved, she killed; it was her expertise. "Yes."

As she sat down with the others at the table, Brienne felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. He was looking at her, no, he was staring at her, and she could feel it. They were sat across from one another, just like the day previously, but they had had more interaction since then, actual physical contact; everything about him unnerved her.

Jon was quick to begin their meeting and hurried to get it over with, "Thank you for meeting again, I know it's getting late but I just wanted to inform you all-" He sat- the sigh he exhaled filled with fatigue. "Rickon is safe, we were successful today and I thank all of you that risked your lives for my brother. We unfortunately lost two of the free folk who had volunteered to help...Tormund I'm sorry."

The atmosphere in the room filled intensely with the sense of loss, regret. Brienne glanced towards the 'wildling fellow with the beard' and it pained her to see him appear so extremely lost, so alone.

"Getting Rickon back in safety was only the beginning. We killed plenty of Ramsay's men, we took his hostage, he'll be furious. He'll start a war with us, free folk included. We have to stick together or we won't have a chance. Brienne, you were right about him being impulsive, so he'll attack as soon as he can, but for now we rest. Tormund, just let me know when you want to have your funerals and we'll help."

"Thank you Snow."

One by one the room began to deplete; Brienne, Sansa and Pod all stood outside together.

"Lady Sansa, Pod, you both should get some rest."

Sansa pulled her furs towards herself, feeling the harsh cold against her skin, "What about you, Lady Brienne?"

She grasped at the strap leading to her hefty blade, "Do not worry about me, m'lady. Get some rest. Pod, I'll wake you bright and early for your next lesson."

"Of course m'lady."

Brienne watched as Sansa and Pod walked towards their accommodation whilst partaking in deep conversation, perhaps Pod had a chance after all.

The fatigue that plagued Jon and the others didn't seem to overcome her, all that pent up adrenaline had left her immobile to feel anything else for the longest while. Despite that bloody scenario which was the so-called plan to save the one, Rickon Stark, not only built up the sensation of adrenaline, but you would have thought that once the battle was over that adrenaline would deplete also, no, the process wasn't as quick as that.

Brienne still felt the racing of her heart, equalizing in the thrill of the rush, she was on edge, her hand never leaving her blade. She remembered what Lord Commander Snow had said about there being a battle to come, one that would either break or make the remnants of the North; alas it was as though her body thought that battle would happen at that moment, even though her mind knew that wasn't the case.

So she decided not to fight, but to take watch instead till she resumed the correct frame of mind.

Brienne had never been on top of The Wall before; she never thought the opportunity would find itself available to her either. Having only seen it from a distance, she gaped up at it in peril often whilst in and around Castle Black, but she'd heard the stories, just like the stories of the type of people that accommodated Castle Black. The famous, most recent myth was that Jon Snow had been slaughtered by his own men for showing kindness to others, to those for thousands of years the Night's Watch had not shown kindness to, and in the end-run he'd been brought back to life through magic; that turned out to be true, so perhaps the other stories and myths were in fact the truth as well.

The wind seemed to hiss from this height, and the cold, well after a long while, started to feign warmth. It was the baited shivers, those which caused the body to convulse and the lengthy bursts of smoky wisps that gave away the danger, the immobilization, which was The North.

The Wall was an elevated 700 feet tall, distancing over 300 miles, so Brienne had overheard during one of the dinners. She'd found that Northern men who enjoy their ale, seem to take pleasure in boastful conversation too- but then she'd found that to be the case with most Southern men she had come across. Perhaps it was something to do with the ale...

Nevertheless, due to the entire atmosphere upon The Wall and the sheer tranquillity in the air, it was no wonder she heard the heavy footsteps advancing towards her before whomever it was even came close.

They seemed to try and keep their sounds inaudible, but with the frosted breeze a worthy companion, and a long history of trouble in every corner, her calloused hand quickly found its way to her trusted blade, grasping it firmly, defining her ready for the onslaught.

However it was when she observed the glimpse of ginger and familiar warmth, followed by a gruff, foreign voice, that her hand visibly relaxed.

"Saw you come up here, an' thought you might want some company."

Brienne spared him no glance, "Is that so?"

"Aye."

Hereby the atmosphere instead turned from perilous to just plain awkward, the long moments of silence painfully dragging. Brienne was definitively aware that she and this 'Tormund' fellow had never really had a full blown conversation at any previous time, besides from the odd sentences conveyed whilst on horseback, but that whole incident she preferred not to think about.

She found herself to be pulled hesitantly from her thoughts by an uncomfortable clearing of the throat, "I also want to thank you..."

It was at this she turned, "Whatever for, ser?"

Now that he had gotten her attention and complete focus, she was quick to notice when he turned on 'the charm'- which in her opinion was the absolute worst attempt at flirting she'd ever seen in her life. It's not like she'd been on the receiving end of much flirting either, but she had been in positions beforehand to witness such things, and this was abominable in comparison.

Though she had to give him points for effort.

With the magnified grin brightening his face, he somehow managed to control himself in order to have a serious discussion. "I wanted to thank you for saving one of my own. I don't know anyone that would risk themselves for a wildling, maybe Snow, but that's different lass; it means a lot to us, is all. Also, the name is Giantsbane, Tormund Giantsbane."

He held out his equally calloused hand in respect, "My apologies...Tormund." (Should she be worried how easily the name fell from her lips?) "I suppose you may call me Brienne, as long as the phrase 'lass' is refrained."

Their hands clasped, shook once and parted. A symbol of trust, assimilation, approval.

"Perhaps, Brienne, we might get to know each other betta, which does sound very promising, don't ya think?"

She felt her ears easily burn, the raw blush creeping up her neck, the newfound sweat transpiring within each orifice. He surely couldn't have been insinuating what she thought he was, could he?

No, she was definitely taking something which was obviously innocent and decoding some other kind of 'intimate' message from it.

Brienne had no idea what was going on with her whilst she had been lodging within Castle Black, or why these odd 'incidents' only seemed to happen around this particular wildling fellow.

Yet whatever it was, honestly it scared her, she remembered feeling something similar to the elder Lannister, yet knowing that whatever was between them was too complicated, it made walking away that much easier.

Whatever this was occurring with Tormund Giantsbane, was new, it was different, and she knew that walking away would not be an option that would come so easily this time.


	6. Chapter 6

"Pod, you keep swinging that sword with no grip like that and you'll get yourself killed!"

Just as Brienne uttered those words, Podrick dodged the incoming blade surprisingly well, but when it came time to strike, he was weak and shoved to the floor unceremoniously once more.

Brienne 'the Beauty' sighed as she pulled the squire to his feet, "Pod, if this was a real situation I'd have killed you by now."

"Well I should thank m'lady for not doing that."

"Come on, again."

Just as Brienne raised the frail swords that both were paired with, Podrick regained his defensive posture, when they heard, "Wait, wait, stop!"

Both turned to see a young looking male wildling running up towards them. He took a minute to compose himself until he calmly spoke, "Lady Brienne, you are needed in the meeting room; you have been delivered a message."

Brienne worked through her mind trying to figure out what the message would read and who exactly knew that she was currently lodging at Castle Black.

She assumed it wouldn't be too difficult for specific people to figure out her location. It was a matter of whom knew that she was in charge of rescuing the Lady Sansa, who would recognize her if they saw her, Podrick too for that matter or the news could have been sent to anyone from anyone who was also residing within Castle Black. The whole ordeal could have been a trap for all she knew, but she was learning to gain trust with those who she had fought with and those the Lady Sansa trusted; but with the type of people that lived here: all the thieves, the rapists, and murderers; anyone could be a spy, so many couldn't be trusted.

She made her brisk stride towards the room that may hold deceptive trickery, nonetheless she tried to maintain a positive outlook, trusting there to be at least some individuals who may risk their lives for her.

That Tormund fellow seemed to be infatuated with her; perhaps he would show the possibility of exposing himself to hazard for her, one could dream.

"Ah, Brienne. You're here; we received something that is addressed to you not too long ago."

"Thank you for informing me, Lord Snow." She situated herself around the table of timber, whilst a piece of white parchment found its way into her hardened palm.

It read:-

'Brienne,

I've heard that you have been successful in your quest to locate and protect Sansa Stark; I offer my congratulations.

I realize that I have asked much of you in the past: protecting Podrick, protecting Sansa, assisting me back to my home; but I have to ask you.

There aren't a great, many people that I trust, but I trust you with my life.

I have been forced to vacate from King's Landing by a religious order called the High Sparrow whom have taken over the city.

I have been ordered to sort out some issues regarding Walder Frey in Riverrun, but once I have completed that, which will no doubt end with bloodshed, I intend to take back King's Landing and make sure all those damned High Sparrow members pay.

I hate to ask you of this, to risk your life alongside my own, but I could do with a powerful warrior like you by my side.

So what do you say?

Could you spare some time to help out an old friend? Fight alongside one?

Please just give it some thought.

Many kind regards,

Jaime Lannister.'

Brienne quickly became agape, left speechless once again by the actions of someone to which she fell in love for, someone which she knew she shouldn't.

She wasn't really sure if what she felt for the elder Lannister counted as love; honestly she wasn't entirely certain she knew what it felt like. Yet she had developed some peculiar feelings to which she had never experienced before; even so, Brienne recalled the pain of seeing Jaime injured, she remembered the purity and passion in the sincere words he spoke, and she brought to mind that empty feeling that enveloped her, crushed her heart, as she looked back towards her love, knowing she may never see the 'Kingslayer' again.

It was the Lady Sansa who deftly came to her side, noticing the change in persona. "Lady Brienne, what is it?"

Shortly she regained her spirit, "Don't be alarmed Lady Sansa, it is a message from a friend."

"Well if it's nothing to worry m'lady, then tell us; is it a secret admirer perhaps?" The young soul beamed, making even Brienne smile, but how she wished that was the case.

"Not exactly, m'lady. It is a plea for help from Jaime Lannister."

The newfound silence within the room was heightened considerably. Jon leant on the surface of the slab, leaning forward as he spoke with a spitefulness tone in his voice, "Jaime Lannister?"

"Yes, my lord."

His voice became dangerously low making Brienne retract her hand gingerly to Oathkeeper, "You mean to say that you are in positive spirits with the man who betrayed my father? The man who would happily stab his own king in the back when given the chance?"

Heavy footsteps dawned closer to the blond, brawny woman, "Oi, Snow, give the woman a break will you?" The foreign drawl stated.

Brienne didn't need any man to fight her battles, "Lord Snow, I am in good spirits with Jaime Lannister. He saved my life several times, I saved his. If he is desperate enough to ask for my help, I should at least consider the preposition."

Seeing Jon ease his composure, slightly more relaxed and knowing that she had the aid of her ginger 'fanatic' by her side should she need some extra help, gave her the opportunity to dwindle the effects of the oncoming adrenaline.

Sansa went to stand by her brother, placing one of her more delicate hands on his shoulder, "Jon, I trust Brienne. Jaime Lannister didn't kill father, perhaps he truly has turned a new page?"

He scoffed, "A Lannister changing their ways, I highly doubt that."

Ignoring her brother's naive behaviour, Sansa sat in front of the warrior, her face calm and mellow, "Brienne, I shall respect whatever you decide to do, you have brought me to my brother, you assisted in saving my younger brother, and you have more than paid your debt. If you want to go and help elsewhere, you may; you will always have a place here."

"Thank you –"

The familiar gruff Northern voice sounded from her left, having chosen to sit in the wooden seat closest to her. Brienne could smell his musk, could feel the heat transpiring from his body; who could blame her for becoming so flustered?

"What about that Bolton bastard? We managed to piss his lot off; if Brienne leaves -Ramsay will kill her, just for the sake of it an' all."

Sansa and Jon shared a look, "I wasn't aware you and Brienne were so close, Tormund?"

Brienne could have cried from the insinuation alone. She turned in her chair just to see Tormund giving very sexual gestures to those in the room, but before she had time to even give a retort, everyone suddenly rose to the sound of commotion in the courtyard.

Edd, Jon, Sansa, Tormund and herself all immediately ran to the balcony which overlooked the courtyard.

The sight that beheld them brought nausea and grief to them all.

A handful of wildlings that defended the gate of Castle Black lay dead amongst the feet of the only and only, actual devil himself, Ramsay Bolton.

He twirled around, gaining the attention of those who hadn't noticed the evil that had entered their retreat, and bore a manic, toothy, psychopathic grin.

"Well, well, well." He said, spreading his arms wide, adding to his dramatics. "How is my little Sansa? Little Rickon too? Lord Snow, I've heard much about you, you and your wildling army. You see, I'm here- well you probably know the answer to that already."

He continued his speech after kicking the feet of one deceased wildlings, Tormund shook with anger beside her.

"You have angered an extremely powerful and dangerous man...that's me if you hadn't guessed already. I want what's mine, and I intend to get it. Sooo, how about we all play nice and you hand over little Sansa and Rickon, and then I'll be on my way?"

Jon stood forward, presenting himself for all to see. "We both know, Lord Bolton, that's never going to happen."

Ramsay smiled; it was a particularly ominous one, one forged for nightmares. He brought his blood stained fingers to his mouth and whistled, "Boys! Kill them all!"


	7. Chapter 7

They were thrust into battle almost immediately. Rickon and the other vulnerable people were instantaneously hoarded to the cells under Castle Black for protection, against those who would show no mercy. Those that could fight pummelled into battle without hesitation; it was simply a battle to the death, the enemy would have to be vanquished for safety to even be considered.

Wun Wun charged at those stupid enough to imagine they could tackle such a huge foe; he merely could swing out his giant arm and would send enormous waves of Bolton men flying through the air, heads bursting from the force of hitting the solid stone walls.

Brienne and Tormund fought as one; swinging and ducking in rhythm; almost dancing jointly to an unheard song. Each fought with unyielding anger and violence, shredding anyone that got in their way to pieces. Tormund fought for his people; he was their protector, the person they relied on, yet he hadn't been able to save those already butchered by those Bolton bastards; so he would do what he could, butcher in return and make sure no one else paid the blood price.

Brienne engaged in combat for those whom she had come to know, most of the residents within Castle Black were decent people which was certainly rare to find in Westeros. She fought for chivalry, for her promise to Jaime Lannister, for those who had previously fought with her and for the future rulers of the North, her pledge to the Starks would stand till death came for her.

So each with their reasons to fight, to happily give their lives if need be; duelled with those who had chosen the wrong house to dedicate their lives to.

Brienne, with her back melded to the muscular back of Tormund, swung Oathkeeper with both hands, creating a shower of crimson liquid spray from the wounds of her opponent. Both were tearing each body almost in half from the strength of their blows, creating rivers of blood upon the snow covered ground, each being the other's shield and sword.

Jon could be seen awash a sea of Bolton swordsmen fending them off without mercy, it easy to see what he wanted most...to get his hands on Ramsay fucking Bolton as it'd be the prize that would make up for all the bloodshed.

Brienne didn't know for certain, since it seemed the battle was never-ending; when a man was knocked to the cold floor another seemed to appear in their place, but it seemed that almost half of the Bolton army had luckily been wiped out, the bodies piling around them proved that. Everyone was desperate and struggled as one to come out of this fight alive, to save their family and be able to wrap their arms around safety once more- unfortunately some individuals who risked their lives for the Starks or for their families would miss out of that opportunity of safety already. The battle worked in the way in which every battle worked, there would always be someone left standing and good people would always lose their lives; it is purely the way it is.

The looming piles of the dead kept rising, each pile filled with bodies of the free folk, nights watch men and Bolton bastards. Battles like these, even if one side lacks fighters, depending on the talent of said limited fighters those battles can last hours, continuing the rage and increasing the death count.

Bitter frost nipped at protected skin, blood that had showered the snow had frozen to crimson ice, making the newly deceased turn into sculptures of grotesque art.

Brienne and Tormund had been parted somewhere within the battle, leaving each to fend for themselves and worry mercilessly if the other would make it through to tomorrow. Brienne slashed, swords clanging, with a simple soldier who seemed surprised to be battling a woman, however he'd probably be thinking about other things he could do with her if she survived. Perhaps he would hit, backslap and beat her, but the answer was obvious; Brienne would burn her soul and body before she would let filth like that touch her.

Her mind flitted back to Tormund, that lovely ginger haired fellow, although he had been an abysmal flirter, he had been so sweet (a little creepy sometimes with all the staring), hadn't pushed her and gave an aroma of feeling safe...

She had to know he was still with her.

Brienne made quick work of the filth that was filled with occupying thoughts of how he could have his way with her, slicing into his abdomen once, twice, then delivering a final blow nearly splitting his body in two.

She fought off some others who tried to charge at her, knocking them down with a swing of her arm and burying Oathkeeper into them, ceasing their last heart beat. She bore the resemblance of Wun Wun should he be smaller and a woman, an extremely powerful woman at that.

Those near the wooden steps in which the drop scaffold resided were the soldiers within battle seen as cowards, pitied but still carried a sword nonetheless, most likely to at least give the impression of brutality. Yet it deemed true, cowardly and weak they were, therefore showing mercy Brienne decided a simple but powerful blow to the head, rendering them unconscious would suffice- besides every war needed its prisoners from the enemy force.

Before long she had bounded steadily up the wooden steps and stood in front of the gallows. Her bright, unwavering eyes moved rapidly over the crowd of those in battle and the numerous heaps of the deceased, seeking out that ginger wildling she was ever so fond of.

The beauty of a champion heard the rough, Northern voice before she saw in which direction it was coming from.

"Brienne! Look out!"

Luckily this noblewoman was a natural born killer with superior reflexes, those of such would make any knight tremble with envy. Brienne didn't need to turn around for her to know there was no one behind her; even though one does not have room to breathe or think during life or death combat- one does have the split second to tune into their senses. Warriors' senses were a form of protection that could save their life better than any regular armour at any time. The best fighters learnt to wield a sword with their eyes closed, with only their hearing and mind for body defence.

Already knowing the general space around her was clear within a second, she turned her attention to below the gallows in which she had previously clambered upon. Having sighted the pathetic Bolton soldier scum who held his metallic sword raised in the air, ready to strike, her conclusion was a split second one at best.

Acting immediately, Brienne gave a vigorous kick to the blade of her enemies' weapon, surprising her assailant and forcing him to turn around briefly to gain balance. The beast of a lady made certain the man had no time to regain himself before she wildly leapt from the gallows ledge and landed roughly onto the shocked soldier below. She clung to him like a Mamba snake clings to its feathered prey, suffocating before delivering deathly venom; she resembled death and Brienne knew how to wield scythes good enough as the grim reaper himself.

Before long, Oathkeeper had met with shivering skin, painting lines of red as the life oozed out of the nameless fighter. As Brienne the Beauty landed with a _thump_ upon ground once more, she set her sights on protecting her man.

Roughly swinging; calloused hands handling smooth steel forcing into the flesh of one body straight after another. Rows of traitors disappearing just by the hands of a brazen woman alone; determination was a powerful incentive, one that rarely showed mercy in the hands of danger.

Within an unknown amount of time her bright blue eyes held tears that she refused to release from the sight of such calming, familiar ginger hair.

As Brienne inched closer to the man who was the other side of her coin, she began to notice a growing red swelling erupting from Tormunds' side.

Immediately she composed herself; yet internally she screamed bloody murder, yelled for vengeance, suddenly becoming immobile from the pain within her bruised heart. Yet physically she bore no resemblance to one with such pain within; instead Brienne appeared the ferocious warrior whom she was imagined to be, strict in her manner and bloodthirsty in her attacks.

Seeing the crimson leak out of the wildling she'd become so attached to, despite being in such short amount of time, brought her back to reality. The lady of Tarth knew what had to be done. The battle had to be won, else all be lost to the dark tiers of purgatory itself.

With everyone still conscious, aided by those who fought through their injured pain- the battle ended up winning in their favour. Only the Seven Gods knew the total death count before the flames licked each body ad rendered them truly passed. Brienne couldn't actually believe that she had survived the day, silently thanking those whom her father had tasked with making her the fearsome death bringer she was at that day. All she knew for what it was worth was that Ramsay _fucking_ Bolton, sat mauled underground Castle Black- mutilated and rotting. The Lady Sansa and her family would be safe from the Bolton grasp and now the North, their home, was back for the conquering.

 _Theons' Point of View-_

Meereen sang with the beauty of a thousand orbs lighting up the sky, rejoicing in their songs of gratitude for freedom. Theon could hear their melodies, their cries of consolation, merciful to the reigning Dragon Queen as he walked down the cobbled streets making his destination to the peaceful company of the boats.

A tortured body eased against the cool, metal of the barriers overlooking this foreign land. He rest his clammy hands, sighing pleasantly as his eyelids drifted shut- breathing in the sweet air of retribution.

It wasn't long till his peace and clarity became quickly broken by a less relaxing, scratchier sound of a young lad wanting to attain his attention.

There was a time, oh so long ago, when he would have treated this young servant boy with distaste, a loathing. He would have spoken at this boy like he was nought than dirt upon his tailored boot and would tell him to 'fuck off and find him a whore with a great, large pair of tits and a tight, wet cunt'.

Of course he certainly wasn't like that anymore, especially not after…

He definitely could never lay with a woman again; it was merely impossible with his 'situation' nonetheless.

So he gave the boy what he was after, a coin and his undivided attention, "What is it lad?"

The young squire gleamed at the coin miraculously, as though such a simple gesture had never occurred before and thrust out the barely wrapped package in which he held under his scrawny arm. "For you sire."

Theon gave a firm nod of acknowledgement and with that the boy vanished from sight. He looked down at the oddly weighted box and ran his scarred hand over it, not knowing whether to open it or not. Yet he realized with certainty that he was safe here, in this slave ridden city protected by a Dragon Queen, and with a new bought of bravery he opened the box.

Silence spread over the city it seemed. Time stopped completely.

Theon stood frozen in place. Eyes fixed onto the content within the box. He trembled. Shook with fear.

Theon managed to reach inside and gather the note attached to the 'gift'.

It read,

'Theon,

I do sincerely hope you find peace in the gift I have sent to you.

I owe you a great deal for helping me escape such evil grasps, but I wanted to let you know that you should fear no more- those evil hands are dead.

Winterfell belongs to the Starks once more.

Many Regards,

Lady Sansa Stark.'

Quivering hands put down the parchment, eyes surveying the contents of the box once again. The tears fell quick and hard; Theon himself fell to his knees, the sobbing shaking his entire body.

As the box made contact with the solid ground, the cargo became known. Pale, flesh rolled from within the package, for it was a male's member that had Theon bawling unceremoniously, the one precisely that had belonged to his torturer.

He was free. Revenge had finally come for the devil himself. Theon didn't know why he cried as he did, but as he looked the sky, he knew a new age was coming.

A new dawn soon approached, with it, tears for the lost but a newfound glimmer of hope that things lost may become righteous once again shone through. Brienne tried not to look those who had lost in the eye as she strode throughout Castle Black, yet she couldn't help but feel partially responsible for what happened; of course, she knew nothing that had occurred was her burden- but the aftermath of any battle was never a pleasant one. You may feel charged, melodramatic at first- that was just the adrenaline, the victory of the winning side. After some time, the true realization sets in, were we the true winners? Most of our people are dead, was it all in vain? Though Brienne's father had always taught her to try and never wallow in such issues, such frames of mind, for it drives even the strongest warrior to their grave.

Whilst her mind fleeted through these thoughts she came across someone alone whom most certainly shouldn't be anywhere near mourning and despair, "Master Rickon, what in the seven hells are you doing out here? You should not be witnessing this sight."

Rickon raised his head full of brown curls towards his sister's guard, "Father once said, 'The man who gives the sentence should swing the blade.'"

The blond warrior of Tarth sighed and calmly sat down next to the boy on such cold steps, "Master Rickon, what happened wasn't your fault."

"These people died trying to save me."

She turned to look the boy straight in the eyes, as she spoke the firm reassurance slowly came to the young Stark's face. "Rickon. Listen to me. This-" She pointed around them. "This, is not your fault. Ramsay did this, no one else. These people, especially the ones who didn't make it, they fought because it was what they believed to be right; there's nothing better dying for than that."

"She's right, lad." Both raised their eyes upon the strong voice which boomed from seemingly nowhere, only to be met with the sight of Tormund Giantsbane; pain etched into his features.

Rickon nodded having honestly appreciated their kind words and departed, sensing the two had somethings to converse about.

Brienne stood, inches away from Tormund, but not noticing in the slightest. "How are you?" She sighed. "Sorry, stupid question. I mean, how is your wound?"

Neither moved away despite the proximity, "All treated, Lady Brienne. Are you hurt?"

"Luckily not…Tormund, I don't know what to say."

Tormund nudged Brienne's chin up with a large finger, "Eh, Brienne, there is nothing to say. War is war. A battle is a battle. People die. It's just how it works lass. These were good people, an' we'll remember 'em, but for now we have to focus on the living."

There was a comfortable silence between them, both simply longingly gazing at one another, both knowing what was about to occur.

Their lips touched, light, akin to a whisper traced against skin, and then it was over. Neither spoke, just smiled and somehow Brienne knew everything was going to be okay.


End file.
